


One Shots & Extras for Long Range Reconnaissance

by shell



Series: Long Range Reconnaissance [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Shell's summer of writing, prompt fills, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell/pseuds/shell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Conversation between Liz and Clint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts).



> This summer I'm gonna try to post regular one-shots and fic prompt responses in all of my Clint/Phil universes. This is where the ones I write for the Long Range Reconnaissance universe will go. These do not take the place of the (still in progress) next story in the series, but will hopefully be fun both for me and those who read them!

A couple of weeks after Thanksgiving she had a missed call and a message on her cell phone from a New York number she didn’t recognize. It turned out to be Clint. The message asked her to call him back when she got a chance. He didn’t sound worried or upset, but she still felt anxious dialing his number.

He answered the phone with a brusque, “Barton,” but when she said hello his voice immediately brightened. “Liz, hey, thanks for calling me back.”

“It’s no problem, Clint,” she said. “Is this an okay time?”

He snorted. “I’m stuck on medical leave and Phil’s back at work. Believe me, any time is an okay time; I’m bored out of my skull.”

She laughed. “Other than bored, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, but I’ll be a lot better once I can get back on the range,” he said. “The shooting range, I mean; I’m not wishing I could rustle cattle or anything.”

“Good to know,” she said. “You said on your message you wanted to ask me about something. What’s up?”

“It’s about Christmas,” he said. “Phil told you we’re coming, right? That is, as long as he doesn’t get some emergency assignment at the last minute.”

“I’m familiar with how that works,” Liz said dryly. “But you should be able to come no matter what, right? You’ll still be on medical leave?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clint said awkwardly.

“Of course, you don’t have to, not if you want to stay in New York,” Liz said quickly. “But you’re welcome either way, with Phil or alone. No pressure, just an invitation.”

“Thanks,” Clint said. “I called because I wanted to ask you about presents for the kids. Phil has something that could be from both of us, but I had an idea for something from me. I don’t know if you’d be comfortable with it, though.”

“What is it?” Liz asked.

“I have some bows from when I was a kid,” Clint said hesitantly. “They’re not fancy or anything, but I have three that would probably work for Brian, Hannah, and Stephanie. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, especially with Brian. If it’s not okay, I understand; I just wouldn’t want to give a bow to one of the kids unless I could give one to all of them.”

“Oh,” Liz said; she should have realized that was what Clint was talking about. “Have you talked to Jen yet?”

“I wanted to check with you first, since Brian’s the youngest,” Clint said. “What do you think? I’d give them lessons. I found a rec center in Groton that has a team they could practice with.”

“It’s an incredibly thoughtful offer, Clint,” Liz said carefully. “Are you sure you’d want to give them away? Phil told me you don’t have much from your time in the circus.”

“It's…right now they’re just sitting in the closet, unstrung,” Clint said. “Bows are meant to be used. I’d like it if they went to, you know….”

“To family?” Liz asked gently.

“Yeah,” Clint said, so quietly she barely heard it.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Liz said. “I’ll talk it over with Trevor tonight, but I’m sure he’ll agree. The kids will be thrilled, Clint.”

“Okay, good,” Clint said, his voice brightening. “I’ll call Jen–do you think she’ll be okay with it too?”

“If she isn’t, let me know and I’ll talk to her,” Liz said. “Maybe the whole family can go to the rec center while you’re here. I wouldn’t mind learning how to shoot an arrow myself.”

“That would be great,” Clint said. “I’d love to teach you. All of you.”

END


	2. A Retirement Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ral wanted to know if they ever go back to Saigon.

It’s a big deal when they finally get Phil to agree to retire. Tony wants to have this huge party, and Liz is busy trying to keep things on a scale Phil would actually appreciate (family and “close friends only, Tony; just because the current and a couple of past presidents would probably come doesn’t mean that Phil would want them there.”). She knows Clint has plans to present Phil with some kind of special trip, something he’d been thinking about for a few years, ever since he suffered that one last injury that convinced him to cede his place on the team to Kate. She’d suggested Tahiti and one point and Clint’s face had gone so white she’d never brought it up again.

Everyone’s there, all in Clint and Phil’s living room in the Tower, and Liz is feeling a little weepy but managed to hold it together long enough to stand up and tell everyone just a little bit about how special her brother is, was, and always will be to her. She’s the penultimate person to toast Phil, moving aside after giving him a somewhat sniffly hug and kiss to cede the floor to Clint. 

Clint says, “I first realized I loved Phil when I saw him take out some terrorists with a few kicks and a well-aimed baguette.” Everyone chuckles, and Liz realizes when she looks around that no one has heard about this before–-except Natasha, of course. “It wasn’t until he got doped up with some truth serum that either of us did anything about it,” Clint continues, the adoration in his voice as clear as it was the first time she heard him on the phone. “I figure now that we’re both retired, we can go back to the scene of the crime; it’s probably a lot more relaxing in Vietnam when no one’s after you. Phil, I don’t care what you call the place–Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City or something else–-it’s always going to be special to me, and I’d like to go back, and maybe see a little more of the country this time. What do you say?”

“Well, we never did get a honeymoon,” Phil answers, “and we never went back after that mission, so, sure. When do we leave?” 

If any current or past presidents were there, Liz figures they might not notice, but she thinks everyone in the room can hear the same adoration in Phil’s voice that was so clear in Clint’s. 

END


	3. Family & phone calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Lines of Sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this series before Behind the Curtain, and after I wrote that story, it always kinda bothered me that I hadn't addressed Phil's family in the earlier stuff. This is at least some of what was missing. Beta thanks to JHSC, who made it better!

It wasn’t until they were making the arrangements to move Phil that it occurred to Clint, but as soon as it did, he demanded to know what Phil’s family had been told. “Nothing,” was Fury’s answer as he walked away. Typical.

All right, time to man up and make the call—but his phone had been left in the rubble in New Mexico. He looked around for his options. He could go to the nurses’ station, but those phones were monitored, and even if they weren’t, any nurses standing nearby would be able to hear. His only shot at any kind of privacy was a cell phone, and that meant one of his team-mates. 

Thor was eating (again? Still? Clint guessed it didn’t matter. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d have a phone), and Natasha was talking to Steve. That left one option, an option who hadn’t even pretended he wasn’t listening in on Clint’s conversation with Fury.

“Give me your phone, Stark,” Clint said, holding his hand out. 

“Okay, sure, Katniss,” Stark said, placing what looked like a piece of clear plastic in Clint’s hand. “Wait, let me activate it,” he said, taking it back and doing something that brought up a screen with a number pad.

Clint walked down the hall until he couldn’t see Phil anymore, then walked the few steps back to keep him in view. There was no one close by; this was as good as it was going to get on the helicarrier. He took a deep breath and dialed, hoping Liz would pick up even if she didn’t recognize the number. “Is this really Tony Stark?” she said after a couple of rings.

“No, it’s me, Liz,” Clint said. 

“Oh thank God,” she said, “Clint, thank God, are you okay? Are you with Phil? He said you’d been captured, but I saw you on television, and I haven’t been able to get through to either of you—“

“Liz,” Clint said. 

“Oh, God,” she said. “Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay.”

“He was stabbed through the chest,” Clint said. “He’s had surgery, and they think he’s probably going to be okay, but it was bad, Lizzie.”

“Can I…can I talk to him? Is he conscious?” She was crying now, and if he didn’t get off the phone soon, he was going to be crying right along with her.

“He’s asleep, honey,” Clint said gently. “We’re working on getting him transferred to a civilian hospital in New York; I’ll send you the details when I know them. Can you let the rest of the family know?”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “But Clint—are you okay? Phil was really worried about you, and the footage I saw, with you jumping off that roof and going through that window—how badly were you hurt?”

“I’m…I’ll be fine,” Clint said, his eyes burning at the kindness and love in her voice. “I need to go now; there are some papers I need to sign. I’ll be back in touch when I know where we’ll be, okay?”

“Okay,” Liz said. “Give our love to Phil, and tell him we’ll be up there soon to give you both our love in person.”

“I’ll do that,” Clint promised. He shut his eyes tightly after he hung up; it took him a full sixty seconds before he could go give Stark his phone back. Stark hesitated for a second, then grabbed it.

“I’ll just need a sec—there,” he said, fiddling with the phone some more and then holding it out to Clint. “Thumbprints in the middle, first the right, then the left.”

Clint stared at him, but Stark just shook the phone at him again, so he took it and did as instructed. 

“Okay, you’re all set,” Stark said. “Don’t worry about me; JARVIS can get me in touch with anyone I need. Speaking of which, J, go ahead and change the caller ID on Barton’s phone, and add the number he just called to his contacts.”

“Yes, sir,” said the disembodied voice of Stark’s AI, which should not be coming from the piece of plastic in his hand that was apparently his new phone, especially not in the helicarrier’s top-secret, hidden medical facility, but Clint couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it. Instead, he thanked Stark and went to find the nurse—Hernandez, that was his name; he’d been Phil’s nurse after Saigon, and Clint’s after Juarez—to ask him what the hold-up was with Phil’s transfer.

***  
The trip to the hospital was bad; Clint had never seen Phil in that kind of pain before. When the blood started soaking through the bandages on his chest, Clint gripped Phil’s hand too tightly, leaning forward to speak all the love and reassurance he could directly into Phil’s ear, even after he’d lost consciousness. Hernandez had come with them, but he was too busy with Phil to spare any energy for Clint; none of the nurses or doctors stopped working until after they’d landed, and even then they kicked him out so they could check on Phil’s sutures. 

“Agent Coulson is stable,” Hernandez told him once he got back from talking to Stark and the rest of the team. He handed Clint a cup of coffee and chivvied him into a chair, one far more comfortable than any of the chairs at SHIELD facilities. There was a box of (brand-name, not generic) tissues on the table that Clint didn’t even pretend he wasn’t going to need, and soon. “He’ll be out for a while longer, but he’s stable, I promise. Can I get you anything else?”

Clint shook his head. “Thank you,” he said, struggling to get it out past the lump in his throat. 

“You’re welcome. Director Fury authorized a temporary transfer for me, so I’ll be here with you and your husband until he’s discharged. We figured you both might appreciate a familiar face now and again.” Hernandez smiled at him a little hesitantly.

“We will,” Clint said, looking him in the eye. “Both of us. Do you think he’ll sleep for long?”

“Probably for at least an hour or two,” Hernandez said. “It might be a good idea for you to get some rest, too, Agent Barton. They said they’d be bringing a second bed in for you in a bit, but for now I think that chair reclines. Would you like a pillow or a blanket?”

“Jesus, Hernandez, just call me Clint already, okay?” Clint said, standing up and pulling the nurse into a rough hug. It hurt—everything hurt—but he hung on anyway. “Thank you,” he said again. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Clint,” Hernandez said, his cheeks flushing. “My name is Javier, but my friends call me Javi.”

“Javi,” Clint acknowledged. “Phil’s sister and brother-in-law are on their way up from DC—I’m not sure when they’re gonna get here, but they’re gonna need access to this floor.”

“I’ll take care of it. Get some rest, Clint; one of us will wake you if anything changes.”

Clint nodded in acknowledgment, but he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes for more than a minute or two without needing to check on Phil. He slipped into the kind of still, focused place he went when he was stuck on a rooftop somewhere watching for a target, but this time his focus was on Phil, on the slow rise and fall of his chest, on the whiteness of the bandages, on the lack of any alarm bells. He only came out of it when Phil opened his eyes and smiled at him.

***  
Liz and Trevor got there half an hour after the rest of the Avengers had decamped to Stark Tower for the night, which was just in time to see Clint’s embarrassing accident. Okay, it was more of an almost-passing-out than an accident, or maybe an actual passing out that was conveniently located (Clint had been trying to get up to go to the bathroom when it happened, so he’d avoided face-planting on the floor in favor of collapsing onto the chair), but the point was that it was witnessed by more than just Phil (who was not exactly at his sharpest at the moment), so he couldn’t try to pass it off as nothing. 

Sometimes there were real downsides to having an ER doc for a brother-in-law. Was that even the right word for the brother-in-law of your husband? The husband of your sister-in-law? Whatever; Trevor was an ER doc, and that meant Clint couldn’t get away with anything anymore, even if Phil hadn’t noticed.

He had to admit that it felt kind of good to be lying down, though. And he didn’t really mind the IV. He did mind when he found out the next morning that he’d slept through phone calls with Brian, Hannah, and Stephanie, though. Clint took his duties as an uncle very seriously. 

“Jen and Scott are bringing them and Mom tomorrow,” Phil said. He was propped up in the bed, and he seemed to be breathing a little easier, although Clint could tell he was in some pain. Even though he was still pale and drawn-looking, he looked more awake, more present, than he had the night before. Knowing Phil, he was trying to wean himself off narcotics already, which they would have to talk about later. “You needed the sleep, Clint.”

“I know,” Clint said from his perch on the edge of Phil’s bed. “And I know you’d rather I stay here than go out with the team, but I have to, Phil. I have to make sure…I need to know you’re safe. That we both are.” He brushed his thumb over Phil’s wedding ring.

“I don’t particularly like the idea of you anywhere but here, but I understand,” Phil said. “Just make sure to come back to me.”

“As soon as Loki’s off-planet,” Clint promised. “After that, I’m gonna be around so much you’ll probably get sick of me.”

“I look forward to it,” Phil said. “Now come over here and kiss me before the rest of your team gets here.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me either at [my fannish tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shellumbo) or [my pro writing tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sbyzmcpherson). Or you can follow either on Twitter: @shellumbo or @sbyzmcpherson. Or both!


End file.
